


Buried the bright edge deep

by OrdinaryRealities



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Pets, cat people - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryRealities/pseuds/OrdinaryRealities
Summary: Yuri isn't good at trusting people, but he makes friends somehow anyway.Title from "Digging" by Seamus Heaney





	1. Chris

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of gave age/time markers, but if anyone's confused this first chapter takes place at Worlds when Yuri has just turned 13. The second chapter will be at Worlds just after he turns 16, and the epilogue (it's super short) I figured was at Viktor's first qualifier for the GPF the following year (The Chihoko drama talks about Viktor coming back in the future tense, so I'm going to assume that, for whatever reason, he sat out the rest of that year and came back the next fall).
> 
> If I say anything thoughtless, let me know. If there are triggers in here that I didn't notice that you'd like tagged, let me know. I want my fics to be a safe browsing experience for everyone.

“What’s her name?” The Russian Junior scowled at Chris while the Senior scrambled for context. He had expected some sort of slut-shaming when the 13-year-old stomped over, primed by Viktor’s grumping about his rinkmate as they stretched. 

“Whose name?” An honest question was the only way here.

The blond demon – he was sure he’d heard the boy’s name – gave him an unimpressed look. “The cat. On your Instagram.” He folded his arms across his chest and braced, Chris didn’t know what for. 

“Oh!,” he smiled at the boy, “Marie. She’s an angel.”

The kid’s arms loosened a fraction. “I’ve got one. Grandpa got her for me, to give me a reason to go home from the rink.” Chris was certain he’d heard the boy’s name. It sounded like Yuuri Katsuki’s, he was sure, but now that he’d thought of his Japanese friend’s name he was never going to remember this one.

The phone that appeared in Chris’s face showed a half-grown kitten glancing coquettishly over one shoulder. 

“Her name is Potya. Puma Tiger Scorpion.” 

Chris blinked. “She sounds fierce.”

The kid nodded – and now that he had relaxed a little Chris could see how young he was – and griped, “She is! But stupid Viktor just calls her an angel and goes on and on about how cute she is.” He finished with an eyeroll that made Chris feel unexpectedly fond. 

He hesitated a moment – Viktor was a friend – before giving in to his initial impulse. “A demon is just a fallen angel. They don’t look any different. It’s all in what’s on the inside.” From the look on the kid’s face, it wasn’t only the cat who got called angelic too often. “That’s what Viktor – and the announcers – called me too, until I shaved my curls and started… showcasing my maturity. Angelic.” 

The kid snorted.

Chris considered him. “You know, every time an angel appears in the bible, the first thing they have to say?”

The boy scowled off to the side. 

“Be not afraid. Because even if people want to pretend that angels are harmless and cute, that they look like Marie and,” he hesitated over the unfamiliar name, “Potya, angels are actually terrifying.”

The boy studied him for a long moment before shoving a hand at him “Yura.”

Chris shook the hand, bemused. “Yura. I’m Chris, or Christophe.”

The blond head dipped seriously. “As long as you keep all that,” a hand flapped towards the rink, “where I don’t have to watch it, I’ll be nice like Yakov wants and I won’t kick you or call you gross.”

Chris was still processing the ramifications of that offer (Yakov must just generally want him to be polite) when Yura changed tacks. 

“Yakov says I have the best combination spins in Juniors. Maybe better than some of the Seniors. I learned from watching you and old videos of Lambiel. Did you know he has an exhibition where he dressed like a cat?”

 

Chris told himself he wasn’t doing it all night, through a dip in the winter pool with Viktor and forty five minutes over dinner, taking turns reading the menu aloud in ridiculously seductive voices, until Viktor wasn’t just smiling that reporter-ready smile at him but something real that squeezed his eyes to slits while he laughed himself breathless. Viktor needed a friend who was just on his side – one who would remind him to have fun when he started forgetting. (If a voice in the back of Chris’s head repeated “Grandpa got her for me so I’d have a reason to leave the rink,” well. Maybe Potya would be more successful than Makkachin, and if a skater wanted to be the best their obsession had to be unhealthy anyway.) 

When Chris gave up and started dressing at five in the morning, he told himself he was just going to check out the competition. There were a few set to move up to Seniors in the next couple of years, and the best of them would be out practicing with Yura and the other juniors soon, save only Yuuri’s rinkmate, who posted more pictures of Chris’s friend and competitor in a month than the elusive man himself posted in a year. (The roommate had posted a picture of his cast. Instead of signatures and get well wishes, he had covered it himself in good luck messages for a dozen of his competitors. Yura was not listed.) Chris told himself, as he showed his pass and slipped inside, that the terms Yura had laid out were not a friendship but a truce. It couldn’t conflict with his loyalty to Viktor, no matter how much the other skater clearly got under Viktor’s skin.

 

There had been a pair of sisters at the rink where Chris first started skating lessons, one his age and the other a few years older. They had both seemed open to his overtures of friendship at first, the elder one, he thought now, perhaps only because of his golden curls and guileless smile. He had forgotten, at this point, the method one or both had used to make it clear that he would have to choose between them. He remembered instead his resolution to refuse to play that game and the subsequent ousting from both siblings’ affections.

 

In spite of this, he watched Yura. He was unfairly good, for a kid. Chris could see what the boy needed to do to take those spins from very good (which they were) to truly excellent and found himself wondering how long he would hold onto silver against the combined might of Russia once Yura moved up. (It was that thought that decided him.) He felt a rush of understanding for the combination of consternation and relief in Viktor’s voice when he talked about the blond demon. This kid, barring injury or burnout, was going to do for Viktor what Chris had yet to manage and be his competition.

 

He caught up with the kid in the hotel hallway before the Junior’s free skate. Once he finished his advice he studied him. “Have you thought about when you’ll be making your senior debut?”

“When I turn fifteen.” Yura gave a firm nod. “Hopefully I can get a year or two in Seniors for sponsors before my body starts changing.”

Chris had made the move to Seniors early too. “When your growth spurt hits, and you have to relearn everything anyway, give me a call if you want. I have a couple of tricks I can show you, but you’d have to re-learn the spins.”

Yura gave him an inscrutable look and nodded. He took his cue from that interaction and approached Chris in private or over direct messages for years. 

 

It wasn’t until the Juniors medal ceremony that Chris realized that Yura was a nickname.


	2. Phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not you, Katsudon. I was actually wondering if I could speak to your friend?”
> 
> The uptalk made the statement almost cute. Still, “Depends. Do you know his friend’s name?”
> 
> Yuri Plisetsky awarded him a wry look. “Everyone knows your name, Phichit Chulanont. And your Instagram handle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same old drill. Let me know if I say anything thoughtless.
> 
> I didn't think a lot about the title when I picked it, but the more I think about it the more I like it. I'm pretty thrilled about tying the poem to Yuri. If you look it up you can listen to Seamus Heaney reading the poem on youtube. It's a poem about carrying on and making something, about the clash between working class roots and being a poet.

Yuri Plisetsky was glaring at Phichit’s best friend. 

“So we thought, after Worlds, in Hasetsu, and maybe while we have so many skaters there anyway we could talk some of you into staying for part two of Onsen on…” He noticed Phichit’s distraction and craned to look over his shoulder, only to beam at the offending teen. “Yurio!” He waved enthusiastically. 

Phichit watched teenaged Yuri as he slunk over. 

“That’s not my name, Katsudon.” 

Phichit tried not to snort. 

“What do you want?”

Yuuri just smiled. Phichit blinked. In Detroit, a similar question could have sent Yuuri into a tailspin.

“Just to say hi.” Half of the conversation was going on in glances and head jerks that Phichit couldn’t decipher. Clearly, Yuuri had learned to speak Plisetsky.

“Not you, Katsudon. I was actually wondering if I could speak to your friend?”

The uptalk made the statement almost cute. Still, “Depends. Do you know his friend’s name?”

Yuri Plisetsky awarded him a wry look. “Everyone knows your name, Phichit Chulanont. And your Instagram handle.”

Phichit grinned. “Leo never said you were such a smooth talker. Go on then, shoot.”

“I… can we talk somewhere else?” He glanced at Yuuri. “I’ll bring him back to you afterwards. I know you wanted time with your friend.”

That was… impressively mature for Phichit’s impressions of the punk. 

 

“So, what were you…?”

“Oh,” Yuri shoved his shoulders against the wall and stared at his shoes. 

If Phichit wasn’t so sure that Yuri and Otabek had a thing, he’d have been concerned about being propositioned. 

“I. Look, I’m just.” He swiped the hair back from his face. “I’m going to bomb – I can’t even land a triple this week. And I can’t. I don’t know when I’ll get over this. I can’t tell reporters that I’ll make it up next fall.” He scowled at Phichit. “You were so fucking gracious about it at the Grand Prix Final. How.” He stopped, but Phichit understood the question now.

“It’s a bit different for me, you know. Whatever I do, it’s the best Thailand has done. I want to win, of course, but I love my friends, and I can bide my time and celebrate them while I wait.” Phichit frowned at the other man. “Why aren’t you talking to Yuuri or Chris about this? They’ve both been here. Chris, especially. He went from second to fifth in a year.” 

“He’s catching up with his friends.”

“So was I!” 

“Sorry to bother you.” Yuri ducked his head further and turned to slouch away. 

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Phichit huffed, amused. “Chris is nice. He’d be happy to be pulled away from his friends to talk. He likes mentoring the younger skaters. He’s been really nice to Yuuri and to me.”

“He’s Viktor’s friend.”

“So am I. From what Chris says, that’s where he learned it.”

Yuri turned around to stare Phichit in the eye. “He’s nothing like Viktor!”

“I don’t even know which one of them you think I’ve insulted at this point.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out.” He started to turn away again.

“Yuri. Look, I don’t have a one-size-fits-all answer for your question. But pick something that works for you. You like to vow vengeance, yeah?”

He paused. “Yeah. But I can’t, I don’t know.” He ducked his head for a moment and mumbled from the other side of a veil of hair, “I can’t guarantee that I’ll be worth anything after. Or even give a timeline about when it might be over.”

“So tell them that you’re fighting with your body, and when you’ve beaten it you’ll get back to your regularly scheduled beating of your competitors.”

Yuri blinked at him. “Guang-Hong said you were surprisingly genuine.”

“Help me out here, Yuri. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Yuri dropped his gaze and caught his lip between his teeth a moment. “Thanks.”

Phichit blinked and then wrapped an arm over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go find Yuuri. Are you meeting up with anyone for dinner tonight, or do you want to hang with us?"

 

Phichit and Chris exchanged looks as Viktor babbled on. “And then I thought, we both wanted Yurio for a groomsman, and that would round out the wedding party.”

Viktor turned to Yuuri and Chris leaned towards Phichit. “Have you talked to Yura yet, or do you just know him from competitions? He’s a great kid.”

Phichit frowned. “You’re friends with him?”

“You will be too, just give him a chance.”

“No, I’m not. I just mean,” Viktor turned back to his captive audience, “later.”

 

They bundled their friends into a cab and began to walk back towards the hotel. 

Chris was walking oddly and it took Phichit a moment to match the beat of Chris’s steps to the waltz he was barely humming.

“Is that Frank Sinatra?”

“Nat King Cole. My exhibition.” He turned to grin down at Phichit. “It’s a love song for the ice.”

“Is that who it was written for.” Phichit ducked his head to hide a grin. 

“That’s who I’m skating it for. ‘Like a song of love that clings to me / How the thought of you does things to me’.” Chris’s singing voice was surprisingly respectable, rumbly and deep but seductive. 

“It sounds sad.” Phichit turned to study his friend’s face. “I… Are you…”

Chris’s face twitched. “I’ve been thinking about retiring. It’s been a long year, and with Viktor coming back… I’m tired, Phichit.”

Phichit bumped a shoulder against him comfortably to hide the ache at the thought. “Well then take care of yourself. And don’t lose my number.” He started walking again, looping an arm through Chris’s. “If you ever need a friend. Never hesitate to call me, not even if we just got off the phone fifteen minutes ago.”

Chris’s hand found his arm and squeezed gently. “Thank you, Phichit. I won’t.”

 

Phichit watched Yuri in the press conferences at the end of the weekend. He watched as he kept his chin up and said nice things about Yuuri and Chris and Otabek and even managed to avoid insulting JJ. When one of the reporters finally pushed too far in the mob at the hotel Phichit started to wade into the fray, (saw Chris doing the same from the opposite direction) only to stop and watch as it became obvious that it was too late. 

“What’s your name? David? When will I prove to my sponsors that the Grand Prix final, Nationals, and Euros weren’t one long fluke? Well, David, perhaps you could consult with a biology teacher. Different people mature at different rates. Hopefully I’ll be able to win again soon, but, as a competitor recently told me, I have to beat my own body before I can go back to beating the rest of them.” He really was maturing.

Chris had made it to Yuri now and leaned into the microphone to lend his support. “If you’d like to try going through puberty on the ice with the world judging you for it, David, I’d be happy to lend you my skates. Huh? How many years? Well, then maybe you shouldn’t be picking on a teenager for things beyond his control.” He turned away from the mic and murmured something to Yuri, then turned back. “I think that’s enough picking on Yura for one night. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll be willing to humor you again tomorrow.”

He steered the younger skater towards Phichit, who backed up to the elevator and called it. He followed them in and frowned. “Where was Yakov for that?”

Yuri flinched around to look at him and scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter every time I walk through the hotel lobby. Fuck, Chulanont.”

“You know that’s not what Phichit meant, Yura.”

Phichit watched Chris as the other man withstood Yuri’s glare. 

“We all know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. That doesn’t mean it isn’t exhausting for all of us when we have to deal with the ravening hordes too often.”

Yuri deflated as Phichit watched. “It just sucks. There’s nothing good about this. Not one single…” He scuffed a foot along the elevator floor and braced himself as the door dinged and opened. 

Leo and Guang-Hong stepped in and grinned. “Hey, right on time! Ready to rock out with Otabek, Plisetsky?”

Yuri pulled a face. “Please. I was born ready. Bring it.” He nodded at one and then the other. “de la Iglesia. Ji.”

Phichit fought a smile. “Aww, look! My good friends, getting along!”

“Shut up, Chulanont,” Yuri muttered, but his face had gone pink.

 

They piled out together at the top floor. Viktor and Yuuri had clearly been having a moment outside their hotel room door, but it was already interrupted now. Chris and Phichit ended up at the back of the group as they exited. 

“Hey, Yura,” 

Phichit was impressed with the way Chris's voice filled the hall without sounding like he was shouting. 

“I don’t know if you remember, or if you would still be interested, but I made an offer to work on your spins with you, if you think I’d still have anything left to teach you.”

Yuri stopped halfway down the hall, suddenly enough that Guang-Hong nearly ran over the back of his feet. 

“Yuri,” Guang-Hong sounded hesitant. “Did you-”

“You… This is.” Yuri craned to look at Chris, and then shot a glance back at Viktor and Yuuri, both of whom were watching the proceedings with interest.

“Yurio!” Viktor clearly enjoyed getting a rise out of the boy. Phichit pulled out his phone to document this moment with a picture for the internet. Hashtag siblings, hashtag behindthescenes. “Yurio, you haven’t chased Chris down already? And you came all the way to Japan after me?”

“Viktor.” Chris’s voice was light. “I’m talking to Yura. Do me a favor, and don’t annoy him until after we finish our conversation?”

Yuri glanced from one to the other again. “I’m not going to take it out on you because he’s being an asshole, Chris. I,” he broke off to scowl at the floor. “Don’t act like I don’t care as much about Chris’s help just because he’s more trustworthy, Viktor.”

Contrary to Yuri’s words, he looked flabbergasted that Chris had remembered. 

“Yuuri-”

“Old man, stop whining to Katsudon. I haven’t even insulted you yet.”

Viktor pressed a hand to his chest. Phichit couldn’t tell if he was happy or insulted. “Little Yurio, all grown up and making friends. You won’t forget us,”

“Otabek!” Yurio pounded on a random door. (Phichit hoped that it wasn’t Otabek’s, just because.) As Otabek opened the door, Yuri turned back to Chris. “I’d like that,” he mumbled. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind.” He shoved into the room past Otabek, effectively removing himself from the conversation. 

Chris bit his lip and waited until the door shut behind Guang-Hong and Leo. “Viktor, I…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Viktor frowned at him. 

It was Yuuri who spoke. “I’m glad Yurio has more friends than he thinks he does, Chris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue should be up this weekend, sometime after I finish watching Good Omens. After that I have another YoI fic in the pipeline, inspired by spite and one too many fics about Yuuri quitting skating because Stammi Viccino doesn't call Viktor to his door. It will be the first fic I don't conceptualize as being about Yuri Plisetsky in some way, and I think it's shaping up to be quite a bit longer than some of these. It should be going up some time in the next month or so, I believe.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri grows up slowly, but he'll learn to show his appreciation for his found family eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy beginning of pride month everyone! Here's a short moment of Yuri tolerating his found family, a very queer thing.

“What the fuck.” Yuri slammed his heels down between Katsudon and the other Japanese skater. “Are you just cheering for everyone?” He settled himself next to Chris.

“I’ll be cheering for Viktor too,” the older man warned him. “If that’s going to bother you.”

“Viktor is Yuuri-kun’s husband.” 

Yuri blinked. He hadn’t realized that Minami Kenjirou was so… intense.

“I don’t have to cheer for you if you don’t want me to.”

Yuri knew when to retreat. “Like I care either way,” he mumbled at both of them and slouched in his seat. Viktor skated to a stop in the middle of the ice and raised his ring to his lips before stretching his hand delicately towards his husband. Yuri sighed heavily and nudged Katsudon with the side of his foot. 

“Well? Fucking kiss your ring at him before he misses his fucking music cue like the fucking sap he is!” 

Yuuri jumped, glanced at Yuri, who raised his eyebrows and nodded out at the ice and then turned to Viktor, raising a hand.

Phichit was sitting to his other side. “Is he kissing his ring or just blushing?”

It didn’t matter. Viktor had lit up like a lantern either way. Yuri could feel Chris grinning at him. “Fuck off! Just because I want to make sure I beat him fair and square-” He broke off as the music started, leaning forward in his seat to get a better view. “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. I'll be back with something before the end of the month probably?
> 
> Edit: One WIP turned into four somehow. They'll all get done eventually but I don't think it will be before the end of June. Sorry, Good Omens and real life distracted me a little bit.


End file.
